by Fox, Nicole
Her eyes start to get misty, but she doesn’t shy away from my gaze.
“We’re equals, Saoirse,” I whisper fiercely. “Partners. And that’s what we’ll always be.”
“You mean that?”
“Completely,” I reply. “If I learned one thing from my parents, it’s that a strong partnership can conquer anything. Both my mother and my father are as tough and ruthless and as they come. But they’ve always been in it together. They’ve got each other’s backs. Even when they hate each other. And the only reason that’s true is because they’re partners.”
She smiles, but I can see the edge of sadness in the corners of her mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking that an outsider looking in would see the two most naïve teenagers in the world.”
I growl at that one. “Then fuck them all,” I spit. “Fuck everyone else. No one knows how this feels. Tonight is ours alone.”
She meets my eyes and nods slowly as I force her to acknowledge her own feelings. She puts her head back down against my chest and after a few moments, I hear humming.
The melody is strangely familiar. And extremely soothing.
“What is that?”
“It’s an old lullaby that my mother used to sing to me,” Saoirse tells me. “It’s weird. I can’t remember her being around me—like, physically, you know. I don’t remember how she moved or talked. But I remember stuff she said to me. Songs she sang. The way it felt to be around her.”
Is that how I’ll feel about Sean in ten years? In twenty?
The thought of living without him is something I haven’t fully accepted yet.
I don’t know if I ever will.
“Hold on to that then,” I tell her, giving her arm a squeeze. I pause, then add, “Will you sing it to me?”
She glances up at me. “Oh, I don’t sing.”
“Try anyway,” I insist. “I won’t even look.” I make a show out of covering my eyes and peeking through the spaces between my fingers.
She smiles. “Okay then. Here goes nothing.”
She takes a deep breath and pulls her face down so that I can no longer see her.
“The pale moon was rising above the green mountain,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in beautiful vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading
And Mary all smiling was listening to me
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Though lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.”
When she finishes the song, I gaze down at her. “You’re a songbird.”
She laughs. “Stop it.”
“No, I mean it. That was beautiful.”
“It was always my favorite as a kid,” she admits.
“I can see why. Will you sing it again for me?”
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she nods and starts the song all over again.
Her words dip towards the end of the lyrics, and I can tell that she’s tired.
Her eyelashes are fluttering closed more often than not and her arms are getting heavier across my chest.
I reach out and pull the thick rug from the bench. Pulling it over us, I settle my head back.
And then I relax into the first night of peaceful sleep that I’ve had since Sean left.
12
Cillian
Sometime Later
A scraping metal sound grates across my subconsciousness. Pulls me from the depths of sleep.
“What is that?” I mumble incoherently.
It feels like I’ve only just shut my eyes. But the first rays of morning light searing through my eyelids tells me that we’ve slept for a few hours at least.
I can feel Saoirse’s warm weight nestled against my chest. Her wild red hair falls like a curtain over my arms.
The sense of peace and contentment I feel lasts only seconds.
Then a nagging feeling of worry rushes through me.
Because the first thing I see when I open my eyes is a face, leering down at me like some unwelcome rash.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this cute?”
Brody fucking Murtagh.
How the fuck did he find us?
Why the fuck is he even up here?
At the sound of his voice, Saoirse gasps awake. She startles upright but I manage to hold her down before she exposes herself completely.
“Cillian!” she cries out, still half-asleep.
It’s pathetic that my heart expands when my name is the first sound out of her mouth.
But it gives me strength.
“It’s okay,” I tell her softly. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Brody laughs scornfully. I realize that he’s got two men with him this time, too. But they’re different than the ones he brought to Saoirse’s house.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway.
They’re all just stooges. Interchangeable. Equally useless.
“You certainly have got her,” Murtagh snarls with the same sickening smile on his face. Then his gaze falls to Saoirse. “Tell you what, hon: if you do to me what you did to this poor bastard last night, I’d be more than happy to forgive your father’s debt.”
“Fuck you,” she snaps.
His eyes widen a little. I guess he wasn’t expecting quite so much fire from a woman who’s completely naked.
She squeezes the rug around her body, but her legs are still exposed. I can see one of Murtagh’s stooges eyeing her up down.
I decide that once I’ve handled Murtagh, that gléas is gonna be the next one on the ground bleeding from every fucking orifice.
My eyes flicker over his features. Thin face, pale coloring, dark eyes. Ugly black birthmark on his cheek.
The second Kinahan soldier is standing a few feet away. He’s mostly out of my line of sight. He’s a big guy, though. Probably as tall as I am, but much broader. Much heavier.
Murtagh moves a little closer. I realize his eyes are bloodshot. He’s drunk, maybe.
“When did this little arrangement start?” he demands. “Has it been going on for a while? If I knew you could be bought, I’d have offered a fair price. A penny for your pussy, perhaps?”
He cackles like he just made the world’s funniest joke.
He’s close enough now that I can smell the alcohol on him. Definitely drunk.
I’m hoping his stooges are equally inebriated. That might make it easier to take on all three of them.
If it comes down to that.
“I’m not a whore!” Saoirse rages. “Not all of us can be bought, motherfucker.”
Murtagh’s jaw twitches. “Everyone can be fucking bought,” he snarls.
I make sure to keep the rug squarely over Saoirse before I get to my feet. I don’t want any of them seeing her naked.
I reach for my pants, but Murtagh tries to block me.
I anticipate the move though, and I move fast. I grab his hand and twist it back. I can easily break it, but the situation is sensitive and I don’t want to invite a fight if it can be avoided.
So instead, I twist hard enough that it’ll hurt and shove him back before the bone snaps.
He growls with pain as he collides into the same brick wall that I’d had Saoirse pushed up against last night.
The Kinahan goons move forward, but none of them make a definitive advance toward me.
I take the opport
unity to throw Saoirse her clothes and then I shimmy my pants on.
Saoirse grabs her clothes and ducks behind one of the bigger flower pots resting against the side wall. It doesn’t cover her completely, but I don’t want to take my eyes off any of the three men facing us.
“You fucker,” Murtagh growls.
“Don’t fucking mess with me, Murtagh. You don’t want the fight.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Then you’re even stupider than you look.”
His eyes narrow, anger squeezing out the pain on his face. “You’re forgetting who I am. Who I’m connected to.”
“I haven’t forgotten a thing. You’re a fucking rich boy who has a rich daddy. Congratulations.”
“Ronan O’Sullivan is a powerful man. But he’s not as powerful as my father. Not anymore.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
“It’s not,” Murtagh replies, licking his lips. “My father has the Kinahans at his disposal, not to mention half the cops in the city.”
He straightens up and grimaces. “In case you’re too fucking stupid to connect the dots, that means we significantly outnumber you.” A triumphant smile flares across his face. “And it means you don’t want to mess with me.”
“I like to stay out of the politics of the business,” I tell him. “Which means I have no problem beating the shit out of you and letting the chips fall where they may.”
“Your father might disagree.”
I glare at him. His confidence is starting to grate on me.
One thing I know about Brody Murtagh: he’s a fucking coward.
The only reason he’s standing here in front of me with so much bravado is because he feels untouchable.
“In fact, I know he would,” Brody continues. “He knows he’s not top dog in this city anymore.”
“That’s a fucking lie.”
“Is it?” Murtagh inquires. He’s clearly enjoying himself.
I chance a glance at Saoirse, and I’m relieved to see that she’s almost fully dressed now.
“Then why would he accept a meeting with my father?” he demands.
I pale. I can fucking feel my color go ghostly white.
“Oh, dear. Didn’t know that, did you? Guess the father doesn’t trust the son enough to share important clan business with him. Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”
“The only thing that’s pathetic here is you,” Saoirse seethes, stepping out from behind the large pot.
Her eyes are trained on Murtagh even as she steps towards me.
The rich boy’s lips pull back in a vicious snarl. “You need to shut your whore mouth,” he growls. “The men are talking.”
“I see only one man here,” she replies without missing a beat. “The one standing next to me. The rest of you are just boys playing pretend.”
He take a furious step forward, but I lunge in front of Saoirse and shove him back.
“You will not fucking touch her.”
He regains his balance. His eyes dance between Saoirse and me.
“So this is more than just a quick fuck on a mangy rooftop, huh?” he asks. “I’ll tell you what, O’Sullivan: I’ll let you leave. I won’t even tell your father about your disrespect towards my family.”
I narrow my eyes. Waiting for the catch.
“If… you give me the girl.”
Saoirse tenses instantly.
But I don’t.
I just laugh in the motherfucker’s face. “Like I said before, you’re not laying a hand on her.”
Murtagh shakes his head. “You know it’s not smart going against me.”
I do know.
I just don’t care.
And he’s starting to realize that.
He thinks he’s taking me by surprise when he lunges forward, but his intentions are written all over his stupid fucking face from the second he gets the idea.
I’m more than ready for him.
I move to meet him, and within seconds, I have him in a headlock. He screams in fury, as both of his men charge at me fast.
“Cillian!” Saoirse warns.
But I’m in my fucking element.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’d protect her. That’s my new mission in life. That’s all that matters anymore.
Murtagh is still under my arm when I use his body as leverage to twist around and kick one of his stooges in the face. The man reels and cries out.
The second Kinahan is apparently a little smarter. He stops about three feet away from me and pulls out his gun.
But then again, I have his boss in a headlock.
So maybe not so smart after all.
Laughing, I pull Murtagh into an upright position and make sure he’s right in front of me.
“You wanna shoot, buddy?” I taunt. “Go right the fuck ahead.”
Then I realize that, if his stooges are armed, Murtagh definitely is. I feel around in his waistband, while I keep my eyes on the two stooges in front of me.
“Don’t flatter yourself by the way,” I tell him as he struggles to free himself. “I don’t have ill intentions. Just need to find your gun.”
Jackpot.
I pull his gun out, cock it, and press it to his temple.
“In any case, you’re not my type.”
“You fucking asshole!” he rails against me.
I laugh. Mostly because it’s funny. But also because I know that the more I laugh, the more incensed he becomes.
“Saoirse,” I say, glancing at her. “Why don’t you head out? I’m sure you’re needed elsewhere.”
She steps into my line of sight and shakes her head. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“Babe, look at me. Do I look like I need help?” I ask before turning to the Kinahan goons. “Drop your weapons or your little boss here gets his brains blown out.”
“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
“Try me,” I growl. “Just fucking try me.”
“Put your guns down,” Murtagh hisses. I can tell how hard it is for him to give the command.
His men obey almost immediately.
“What good little trained dogs,” I praise. “Do you heel as well? Roll over? Play dead?”
One man just stares at me, expressionless and robotic. The other one huffs and puffs until he actually goes beet red.
“Kick the guns away,” I order.
Murtagh nods. Both men obey again.
“Well, this was fun,” I say, pushing Murtagh away from me.
I sigh and relax. I really don’t expect him to make another attempt on me. I mean, how many times does the fucker need to get his ass handed to him before he accepts that he’s no match for me?
But apparently, he’s got something to prove.
Because the moment I release him, he twists around and charges at me.
This time, I’m pissed.
I’m really fucking pissed.
So I put my all into the punch.
And God, does it feel fucking good when it connects.
Knuckle straight to jaw. A sickening crunch rings out. Brody bellows and flies back on top of the low brick wall that lines the edge of the rooftop.
I stride over to him, my fist ready for the second punch.
He looks up at me, mouth full of blood. Eyes brimming with hate.
He starts to say, “You motherfucki—”
I don’t hold back when my knuckles meet his jaw for the second time in as many seconds.
The only thing I don’t factor in is his position.
The momentum of my punch comes from low to high. Catches him right under the chin.
And that’s all it takes.
His eyes roll back in his head. His body twists over the brick wall. It hits him low in the knees.
Tips his center of balance over, over, over…
Then he’s gone.
Someone screams. I don’t even know who it is.
I run to the edge of the wall and look down.
Fuck.
It’s a five-st
ory drop. Murtagh’s on the pavement. I can’t see blood from here—not yet, at least—but his limbs are twisted at grotesque angles.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What have you done?” one of his stooges roars. “You’ve killed him!”
“This will start an all-out war, you dumb motherfucker,” the other one grimaces.
Fuck. My heart is pounding.
They’re right. They’re both fucking right.
I turn from the balcony’s edge and go straight for Saoirse. I grab her arms and pull her to me.
“You have to go,” I tell her urgently. “Now.”
“Cillian,” she whispers, her eyes wide with panic. “I won’t leave you.”
“This is bad, Saoirse,” I say.
I promised I’d never lie to her. I won’t start now.
“I don’t want you to be here for what happens next. Go.”
“But—”
“NOW!”
She flinches away from me, but her eyes are still reluctant.
“Please,” I whisper. “For me.”
A teardrop squeezes out from the corner of her shimmering blue eye. She nods once, trembling from head to toe.
And then she turns to flee.
I stand there and watch her go.
I see her wild red hair disappear through the door.
As soon as she’s gone, the emptiness engulfs me.
13
Saoirse
I race down the narrow, circular staircase that I ascended with Cillian what feels like a lifetime ago.
I’m halfway down when the entire contraption shakes as though it’s about to fall apart. I glance back behind me and realize that one of the Kinahan thugs is following me.
My heart is going a million miles an hour.
So are my thoughts.
I’m still processing everything that’s happened between Cillian and me in the last twelve hours.
And now this?
When I get to the bottom of the staircase, I’m surprised to find that there’s still people milling around. Most of them are drunk, clinging to each other or to an empty bottle.
As I run past the bar, the bartender notices me. He’s tall, well-built, and good looking in a stereotypical kind of way.
His eyes go wide as he registers the panic on my face.